|
6 SEPTEMBER 2008
The fevuh | MB's got "the
fevuh," Gibson looks like a glazed donut monster (remember
Bill Cosby's routine?), and it's been a week since I could breathe
through my nose. What happened to summer? At least the sun is
back. September is usually my favorite month, but this one's
starting off as a mixed bag.
But you didn't
come here to read about our health. We're taking a bit of a break
from shows, as you'll note on the calendar. Time to retool the
set list, etc. But since May, when we starting playing out again
as a full band for the first time in years, we've enjoyed ourselves
immensely. We've played with some great bands, met some wonderful
people, and also had the opportunity to reconnect with a lot
of familiar faces. We look forward to the next round of shows.
More cowbell!
- Matt
10 JUNE 2008
 The new EP |
We finally put the finishing touches on Morning After Food Poisoning in the
South of France,
a 4-song EP that weighs in at a mighty 19 minutes and some change.
Yes, it's short. But daggum, we're feeling awfully good about
it. You can preview a few tracks at our MySpace site, and CD's are selling
for a measly five bucks at shows and at our store.
Give it a listen and tell us what you think when you get a chance.
- Matt
 1 JUNE 2008
And there was much rejoicing
| We
had a great time at Allen
Creek
playing with four other bands at the Malawi benefit. Money was raised for a good cause,
loud rock music was dispensed to the masses, and there was much
rejoicing. Thank you, Hazens!
- Matt
 12 MAY 2008
So excited | Okay, we can't wait
to start playing out again. As you'll note on the calendar to
the right, we have actual shows posted. Shows!
Our collective glee knows no bounds.
- Matt
27 MARCH 2008
U23D | Mary Beth, Gibson,
and I went to see U23D at the IMAX theater in Seattle
Center. The place was packed, although the crowd was pretty restrained
(I felt like I had to tone down my enthusiasm, lest I frighten
the mellow people). This was my first 3D experience, and I found
it, well, kind of weird. At times, it felt a little vertigo-inducing
(no pun intended). But it was interesting.
 As for the actual music, I thought U2 rocked,
as usual. They reinvented classics like "Sunday Bloody Sunday"
and "Bullet the Blue Sky," tying both songs to the
modern political landscape, with Bono wondering aloud why three
branches of the same prophetic tree (Judaism, Christianity, and
Islam) are trying so desperately to kill each other. They also
introduced a few newer songs, like "Love and Peace or Else,"
with Larry standing out front and holding the rhythm down in
the first half of the song with just a floor tom and crash cymbal.
 The high point of the film was definitely
"One," which ended the main set with the sort of transcendental
moment we've come to expect from U2. Conversely, the encore began
with "The Fly," complete with jumbled messages flashing
on the screen, a la the Zoo TV Tour, which felt jarring, cynical,
and, well, a tad boring. All in all, though, a great show. I
was struck by one moment in particular, when Bono, usually larger
than life, suddenly looked tiny on stage, like a man no longer
in control of what he had unleashed. The huge Buenos Aires crowd
was singing along to "With or Without You," and Bono
looked overwhelmed by the experience. Who wouldn't be?
- Matt
13 MARCH 2008
A life's work | What do you do if your
life’s work belongs to youth? If what you do isn’t
serious, at least not according to most people over 40?
If you’re
20 and scratching out a local following with your band, you swing
away, the wind at your back. If you’re 30 and still climbing
the same mountain, you march on, more jaded, perhaps, but nowhere
near ready to call it quits. If you’re 40... it’s impossible
not to feel self-conscious, like maybe you better get out before
you embarrass yourself any further.
 But
you can’t. You’re a never-was and a has-been all at
once. Time has passed you by. The future belongs to somebody
else. But you keep on because... because there has to be a way
to make rock and roll serious work, even for people who’ve
already burned through their youth, even for people with bills
to pay and dependents to feed -- and no time for schmoozing.
We all understand
why famous bands keep touring well past their prime, well into
their geriatric years. There’s money in it. And the God-hole,
as Bono puts it, must be fed, whatever the costs. But what about
the undiscovered indies? When the brass ring never arrives, they
get on with the serious business of adulthood, right? Adolescent
dreams are left for dead, and everything fades to black.
But again, what
if your serious business is rock and roll? What if you
never outgrow it?
Unknown jazz,
blues, and folk artists keep playing until they fall over dead.
They’re not dinosaurs. They’re not jokes. They’re
seasoned artists, revered by anyone who knows anything about
the style of music they play. Who will give rock and roll the
same degree of dignity?
Rock is dead.
Long live rock.
- Matt
15 FEBRUARY 2008
 Angry
C-cups |
So we finally changed the album cover on North by Nowhere. Why? For starters,
we felt a little self-conscious every time we handed someone
a copy of the CD and the first thing they saw was MB's lovely
cleavage. But it was more than that. It was the cranky look on
her face. It was the stark colors. It was the fact that we failed
to observe a rather easy-to-follow rule of thumb that until now
we'd successfully stuck with since our first album: bands generally
look silly on album covers. Not all the time. But most of the
time. Striking a pose looks like, well, striking a pose. Ergo,
bands that strike poses are… posers? True, you can't get
away from a certain amount of posing - bands need shots for web
sites, the media, etc. And true, we've toyed with mildly risqué
stuff in the past, mostly 'cause we get tired of being so damn
wholesome all the time. But let's face it: we're not hopelessly
sullen, coolly detached, righteously angry, sexually transmittable,
or even elegantly wasted. We're geeks.
We recognize
that imagery is part of every band's identity, and we recognize
that we've a long way to go before we articulate a coherent and
fitting band image. But given our general ineptitude (you should
see the web site that nearly went live before we released War Stories - it had an absolutely
over-the-top shot of MB's cleavage juxtaposed against a shot
of me sitting on the toilet; only the toilet shot saw the light
of day), we're thinking it best to concentrate on the music,
lest we cheat the only thing that counts.
Having said all
that, we reserve the right to put a shot of MB and her angry
C-cups on the cover of the next album. But it will have to feel
right. This one didn't.
 "Okay," you say, "tell
us about the new cover." We found it on the Wisconsin
Historical Society's web site, and WHS was good enough to grant us
use of the photo for a small fee and proper credit (WHS Image
ID 11749). We think it fits the music better, and we won't be
embarrassed to sign copies of it at shows.
Along with giving
WHS proper credit, I would be remiss if I failed to thank everyone
who sent in their ideas for the cover. You gave us some cool
photos, and we were in the midst of putting together a collage
when we stumbled upon the WHS site. Somehow the image spoke to
us, and we felt compelled to run with it. The best laid plans
. . .
- Matt
31 JANUARY 2008
 We like
toys |
One of the fun things about playing guitar is all of the weird
sounds you can make, especially if you're willing to fork over
some hard-earned cash for one of those little toys guitarists
put at their feet. Tommy and I are on a quest to find strange
and new sounds, which has fueled an arms race in guitar effects.
Here's a photo of his newly built pedal board, now almost too
heavy to carry. Mine is smaller, but I added one of these and one of these and have been making
fun noises ever since.
- Matt
12 JANUARY 2008
 The
sun came out |
A strange gold orb appeared in the sky today, and I wasn't the
only one to notice. As part of my usual Sunday long run, I ran
down to the Tacoma waterfront (Ruston
Way)
and ended up weaving through hordes of bipeds, all of them a
sickly shade of gray, with moss growing on their
north sides.
Everyone had come to the boardwalk to pay homage to the strange
thing in the sky.
Winter sucks
in the Northwest. There's just no getting around it. My only
escape is running in the woods (where less rain drops
hit you) and of course playing music. Speaking of which, we had
a great rehearsal tonight. We are hatching many plans and writing
many songs, but I have to keep you in the dark a while longer.
No worries. After winter comes spring.
- Matt
18 DECEMBER 2007
 End
of an era |
I just read the news that the venerable Crocodile Cafe is closing
its doors.
Ack. There goes another Seattle music scene institution. The
Colourbox. OK Hotel. Sit & Spin. The depressing list goes
on, and now it includes the Croc. I know some of our fellow bands
regarded the Croc with much skepticism and derision, partly I'm
sure because they never got to play there. I can't blame them.
It was, at times, hipper than thou. But we had some great shows
there, including our Spinner CD release party in 1998. It was an excellent
sounding room, the staff members were professional and courteous,
the line-ups were usually pretty interesting, and in general
it was a great place to play or see a show. R.I.P., Crocodile
Cafe.
- Matt
3 DECEMBER 2007
Nostalgia fit | Do you ever look back
at your life -- or segments thereof -- and just get overwhelmed
by all the associated emotions that come with it? We got a cool
e-mail recently from a budding young chef in Federal Way, who
recalled the first and only time he ever saw our band play live
(at an impromptu unplugged all-ages show in SeaTac many, many moons ago)
and then went on to share with us a nifty little detail: he met
a girl there that night that went on to become his wife. Good
friends of ours also met at a TWBA show years ago (at the Off
Ramp)
and later married, so maybe there's something going on here.
The Whole Bolivian Army: your rock and roll matchmakers.
Anyway, the whole
thing inspired me to put in some old TWBA albums, and I was struck
by a whole range of emotions as I listened to them. Every album
is created in a certain context, at a certain juncture in our
lives, and listening to them for me can be an unnerving experience.
The nostalgia is almost too much to bear. It aches, but in a
good way.
- Matt
17 NOVEMBER 2007
 Basement tapes | Ugh. Sorry for the lack of posts. It's
not like we haven't been busy. Greg went to Japan -- and Moses
Lake. I ran the Portland
Marathon.
Chris flew to California to mix an album dedicated to his late
brother. Tommy plumbed the mother
of all toilets.
MB tried to convince Gibson that Halloween candy isn't a major
food group. Oh, and we recorded a 4-song demo. Since then we've
been bunkered in the basement while Tommy finishes the "big
room" in his studio. For the moment, we're writing, writing,
writing. But we promise to post the demo songs here as soon as
we've mixed them. In the meantime, try not to be too SAD. There's nothing you
or I or anybody can do about the dreaded loss of our daylight
. . .
- Matt
31 OCTOBER 2007
 Spooky Tacoma | Gibson and I went trick-or-treating
in our new neighborhood tonight, while MB answered the door and
sugared up the masses. Nobody chased after us in a hockey
mask,
but we did eat enough candy to feel a bit seasick afterward.
Halloween should
be twice a year. It's definitely Gibson's favorite. What's not
to like? You get to gut a pumpkin (or two or three or four),
traipse around in the dark, dress up all spooky (or goofy, if
you prefer), and eat free candy. We were a little suspicious
of the one lady who left apples on her front porch, though. What's
she trying to do? Start a revolution?
- Matt
23 AUGUST 2007
Morning after food poisoning
in the south of France |
That's actually the subtitle of a new song we're working on,
called Alright, which revisits a backpacking
trip to Europe I took after dropping out of grad school. My buddy
and I ended up with food poisoning while staying in Arles, a cool little town
in Provence, in the south of France. My buddy did okay. Me, not
so much. I don't throw up well. I remember classmates in high
school and college who could drink, hurl, and repeat -- with
smiles on their faces. For me, personally, I have to get to the
point of near death before I can throw up, and then it's like
an exorcism, usually one that lasts
a good 12 hours and is accompanied by high fever, hallucinations,
and all sorts of unbecoming moaning and writhing.
Anyway, after
that particular episode in Arles, which lasted all night, the
sun finally came up, and I began to feel human again. I left
the hotel and wandered the cobblestone alleys to find something
cold and fizzy to drink. It was a sunny October morning, and
life was suddenly good. Really, really good. Just hours earlier,
I was riding the porcelain bus and praying for a way out of my
misery. And then everything was beautiful again.
 We had to part ways with Roger Johnson, our long-time drummer and good friend,
last week, not because of any of the usual culprits (musical
differences, etc.), but because of time constraints. Roger is
a dang busy guy, and a proud papa to boot. The band demanded
a little more than he could give at the moment. It's tempting
to feel a helpless sense of deja vu. Here we go again in with
another member change. But we keep reminding ourselves that things
will be alright. Here's an MP3 of Roger playing Alright at practice, and here's
one of the new guy, Chris, long time buddy of Greg's, playing
another new song in the works, Mercurial, after learning it on the fly at a hastily
arranged audition. That's Gibson playing the harmonica at the
end. Apologies for all the wrong notes on guitar. The drummer,
though, is fine.
sun
finally came
slid into my jeans
sleepwalked the streets
streets I'd never seen
suddenly
it's gonna be alright
something
cool to drink
pressed against my skin
she gave me my change
couldn't remember where I'd been
suddenly
it's gonna be alright
free
fall feels right
when no one gets hurt
I dig where I land
fingernails need dirt
suddenly
it's gonna be alright
- Matt
6 AUGUST 2007
 The
kid is alright |
There are plenty of cool things about parenthood, but one of
them has been a surprise to me, at least as far as how it has
affected my musical life: the chance to revisit and rediscover
rock and roll. Gibson is six and a half now, and a budding little
drummer. His first favorite band was U2 (not a surprise, given
how much MB and I play U2 around the house), and he actually
knew all four members' names before he could fully speak. Likewise,
he already knew how to play the drums. Since then, he's slowly
been learning the U2 catalog, actually sitting down and watching
Larry Mullin, Jr. play a specific song, pausing the DVD, and
then hurrying to his drum set to replicate the part.
We were a bit
worried he would never move on to another band, but no worries.
Next up was AC/DC. After watching Let
There Be Rock,
Gibson started miming Angus Young's whirling dervish guitar antics, including
that fancy move where he spins around the floor on his side while
playing his SG.
Next came Queen,
after we all sat down one day to watch Live Aid footage, courtesy of
the Tacoma
Public Library system.
Bono and U2 hit their stride that day, but Freddie Mercury, aka
Farrokh
Bulsara,
and Queen absolutely blew everyone's doors. What a magnificent
performer Freddie was! No one in today's crop of would-be world
beaters comes even remotely close. The guy was pure theater:
decadent but real, over the top but sincere. And his voice was
otherworldly.
Currently, we're
studying the music and biography of the Who. I was never much
of a Who fan, so this has been fun for me. Watching The
Kids Are Alright,
it's impossible not to be sucked into the mania. Pete Townshend
was channeling pure aggression. Thankfully only his guitars (and
amps and Keith Moon's drums) paid the price. And thanks to Gibson,
I've discovered the Who, only three decades after their heyday.
Who's
next?
- Matt
3 AUGUST 2007
Planet PT | Just wanted to say
a quick thank you to everyone who came out to the acoustic show
last night at the co-op in Port Townsend. The
place has its own weather system (the wind always blows) and
feels a million miles away from the rest of the world. It's quiet
and lonely and desolate, even in the summer when the tourists
descend. And it still feels like home. We missed you.
- Matt
6 JULY 2007
Domesticity is good
for you |
Long-time followers of TWBA know well our ongoing attempts at
outdoing Spinal
Tap in
the members turnover department. I won't revisit our sordid history
here, other than to say we've never lost anybody to spontaneous
human combustion.
Instead, I'll mention how cool -- and downright freakish -- it
is to have found a lineup that has excellent chemistry (we've
had that before) AND an unmistakable aura of stability
as well (we've only rarely had that). No personality clashes.
No ego trips. No unbridgeable musical differences. Just four
guys and one gal getting busy making music. Alas, there's nothing
to hold us back, save for domestic obligations -- the avowed
enemy of rock 'n roll. Then again, maybe band discussions that
revolve around the differing consistencies of diaper poop or
the perils
of public schooling
will keep us properly grounded. We rock for the good of the republic.
- Matt
1 JULY 2007
 Cheap
knock-offs |
I bought my first pair of Vans the other day. I've
always been a Chuck
Taylor
kind of guy (orange, green, mint green, gray, off white, gold
lamé), but thought I'd give Spicoli's favorite shoe a try.
It helped that Gibson needed a pair of slip-ons, too. Who has
time for laces? Anyway, technically speaking, neither of us bought
Vans. We went for the cheap knock-offs, but who's going to notice?
Not us. Gibson's have a menacing skull and crossbones design.
Mine show some kind of inscrutable blob. They were the only ones
in my size...
- Matt
19 JUNE 2007
 Anatomy of a song | Ever wonder how a song gets from Point
A to Point B, with Point A being an idea and Point B being a
finished studio production? Well, we thought it would be cool
to invite you into the pre-production stages of the next album.
Below are three versions of the same song, each with notes next
to the accompanying MP3.
One
Last Time Here (naked):
Here we have a basic song idea, which I recorded at home many
moons ago with Mary Beth and a click track (muted in the mix).
Just a couple of guitars and vocals. Dry. No effects. No mixing.
No nothing. The song in primitive form.
One
Last Time Here (arranged):
Here's what it sounds like after Tommy has finished with it in
his studio. Tommy erased one of the guitars, replaced it with
his own guitar line, added a bass line, and added a synthetic
drum line (realistic enough to fool at least one actual living,
breathing drummer). He also gave it a rough mix and played with
the arrangement, adding an extended outro simply by cutting and
pasting already existing parts. Finally, he EQ'd and compressed
Mary Beth's breathy vocals, bringing them up close and personal.
One
Last Time Here (demo):
Now we hear the song for the first time with everyone playing,
including Roger on drums and Greg on bass. In this case, the
song was recorded live, without a click track, which means it
races at times and is loaded with "mistakes" but has
plenty of energy. My guitar line, previously a static thing with
a funky low-fi EQ, has evolved into a full-on wah-fest, with more ambience
than definition. Tommy, meanwhile, accidentally clicked on his
MXR
Phase 100
during the outro for a split second -- an idea is born. Greg,
for his part, helps us rework the choruses, adding a chunka-chunka
part for extra grrrrrr. Next, Roger gives the skins a good whackin',
thereby proving the colossal difference between a real drummer
and a machine. Finally, Mary Beth, singing the song live in a
room with four other loud musicians, changes her vocal technique
from breathy to full-on wail. In the final production, she'll
likely switch between being breathy (for the verses) and singing
from the gut (choruses, bridge, outro). But you won't hear that
version for a while. We've got about 15-20 potential songs to
play with first, and each one will get similar treatment in order
to bring it up to "demo" level.
So what do you
think? Do you feel enlightened, disappointed, or a little bit
of both, now that you know the secret formula behind Colonel
Sanders' chicken
(the one that makes you crave it fortnightly)?
- Matt
18 JUNE 2007
 Steve
gets old |
Mary Beth, Gibson and I were lucky enough to be invited to ex-TWBA
bass player Steve Miller's grand birthday bash earlier this month,
which, conveniently enough for Gibson and I (a pair of sweet
tooths if ever there was one), was hosted at (ahem) a chocolate
factory!?!
The cake, as you can imagine, was de-frickin'-licious. So, too,
the samples (ever had curry with your chocolate?). There was
much face-dancing, skanking, moshing of all kinds, and generally
embarrassing (and somewhat painful) calisthenics. Mary  Beth looked
lovely in a shiny red dress, Gibson brought Buzz and Woody along
(Woody had too much to drink), and the boys from Thornton
Creek
showed up. Steve is terribly old now, bordering on the geriatric,
but still the life of the party, even without his medication. The only rough moment
came when Woody lost his hat. But we (i.e., MB) found it, and
order was restored to the universe.
- Matt
14 JUNE 2007
 Flag Day |
Hey, today's flag
day.
Our personal favorite is the Jolly Roger, with Bono and his white
flag (don't forget the mullet!) finishing a close
second. Seems the perfect time to overhaul and update our web
site.
First, the big
news: we're a band again. We've hurriedly updated this site to
reflect the new lineup: Mary Beth on vocals, me on guitar, Tommy
on guitar, Roger on drums, and... introducing... Mr. Greg Strickland
on bass. Greg is an old school chum of MB's -- and a freakin'
monster on the bass. Yes, friends, that's the face of rock
and roll staring back at you (sorry, Greg -- I couldn't resist
using this one...).
Secondly, we're
going to endeavor to update this here page once a week. Yes,
I said it: once a week. That's 52 times a year. We're excited
to be getting back on the stick, and just to prove it, we've
been recording our practice sessions at Tommy's studio. Here's
a rough cut called One
Last Time Here.
Finally, as noted
below, MB and I bugged out of Port Townsend, after much discussing
and belaboring and general hand wringing. We have moved to the
City
of Destiny
(or is that density?) -- and have so far been pleasantly
surprised. It helps that we found a cozy 1925 Craftsman to call
home. Couldn't have afforded it in Seattle, even if it had been
wedged between two crack houses under I-5.
More soon...
- Matt
7 MARCH 2007
Back to Pugetopolis
(cake, eat it) |
Our apologies for the lack of news of late. We've been going
through our own little existential crisis here in TWBA land.
Long story short: the Kite house is up for sale, and we're moving
back to the overpopulated side of the pond. Alas, Port Townsend
is everything we noticed when we first moved out here in the
summer of 2001: quiet, slow-paced, charming (in a faux-Victorian
kind of way), and mostly pollution-free (other than the stinky
pulp mill). The sky above us actually shows stars, and coyotes
sing us to sleep every night.
But all those
connections back in Seattle, including family, friends, and of
course the other members of The Whole Bolivian Army, beckon.
Moreover, we've found that ferry hopping every weekend isn't
nearly as romantic after you've been doing it for six years.
We tried to get away from the sprawl and the concrete world,
tried to have our cake (TWBA) and eat it in Port Townsend, but
what we've learned is that home isn't necessarily a place. It's
people. It's music. It's back in Pugetopolis.
The good news
for TWBA fans: the band is reuniting, although the details are
still sorting themselves out. The thought gives me goose bumps.
We're going to be a band again.
- Matt
23 DECEMBER 2006
Adult diapers | Hey, we just endured
a little early Christmas gift here at the Kite house: the dreaded
stomach flu. It came, it saw, it sent us running to the toilet.
And, as Goofy would say, garsh. It was awful.
Yet we arise
from the ashes ever hopeful. Not only are the days growing longer,
one by one, minute by minute, but The Whole Bolivian Army is
reforming just in time to record the ultimate TWBA album. How?
Who? You ask. We're still figuring that out. But it's looking
an awful lot like that 10-year anniversary show we had at the
Rendezvous a couple years back. More than one ex-TWBA drummer
will be on the album. And there will be a few guest musicians
as well.
More importantly
still, Mary Beth and I have been cranking out little pre-production
demos for the others to listen to, and the songs are filling
us with girlish glee, even in their nascent forms. If you'll
remember correctly, before we immersed ourselves in the North
by Nowhere project, we had already begun this one. Whereas
NxNW was an experiment in fancy pop, the new one promises
to be straight up and true and utterly us. How's that sound?
The passion is practically jumping out of the demos, and that's
a good thing. It's been a long time (anybody remember Amnesty?)
since we just went about the business of making a great rock
record, sans message, sans angle, sans anything overwrought,
over thought, or overshot.
Now where are
those adult diapers?
- Matt
|
C A L E N
D A R
A respite, if
you will.
S A T
E L I T E S
TWBA
at CD Baby:
Sample every song on Morning After Food Poisoning in the South
of France, North by Nowhere, and War Stories.
TWBA
at Giant Radio:
Home of a gazillion TWBA songs in Realplayer format.
TWBA
at I-Tunes:
For those of you who don't buy CD's anymore.
TWBA
at MySpace:
We try to keep pace with the slutty masses.
TWBA
at Seattle Sounds:
Andy Savage pays homage to the Seattle scene.
TWBA
at YouTube:
DorkusMongus lurks here.
|
